


Beauty Has No Gender

by CirqueDemonic



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Agender Character, Asmo being sweet, Comfort, Fluff, Gender Affirmation, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Issues, Gender Neutral MC - Freeform, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, He loves his MC, Makeover, Other, Other Brothers Mentioned, Pampering, Self-Indulgent, Soft Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), asmo in a dress, clothes have no gender, ympish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29114805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirqueDemonic/pseuds/CirqueDemonic
Summary: Ymir is worried wearing a dress would cause people, particularly the brothers and their other friends at RAD, to doubt or invalidate their gender. Asmodeus assured them that they have nothing to worry about, and gives them a make-over to help them realize that aby gender can be beautiful, and their own happiness is more important than anyone's opinion.A self-indulgent fic about dysphoria and self-image.
Relationships: Asmodeus & Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Original Character(s), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Asmodeus/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Beauty Has No Gender

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this fic while painting my nails and waiting for the Like a Dame event to start. Like Ymir, I'm an agender person who likes wearing dresses, but I don't wear them often anymore in public because I'm afraid of not being "trans enough" in other people's minds. Having a story where the boys wear dresses and not only don't feel like it threatens their masculinity, but they acknowledge that people of any gender can wear dresses without it affecting their identity, was just really validating in some ways. It got me thinking about a lot of things, and also made me really happy about how openminded the Devs seem (and so many members of the fandom as well). So, I thought that other nonbinary/gender non-conforming people in the same boat might enjoy a fluffy story about Asmo helping my MC feel beautiful and valid.
> 
> As a note, Ymir's feelings and actions are based off my own experience with dysphoria and social discomfort. They are not representative of every trans person, nonbinary or otherwise. This is just a self-indulgent story I wrote to make myself feel better and pretend a cute demon was comforting me. I hope other people enjoy it, too, though.

I hated clothing shopping with Asmodeus.

Okay…let me rephrase that. I hated clothing shopping. Period. Full-stop. I loved Asmodeus, and I loved spending time with him. Even other types of shopping were fine. I went with him to pick up new make-up or accessories all the time. But I tended to avoid going with him if I knew he would be looking at clothes for hours. It was just…it made me uncomfortable, and I didn’t fully know how to articulate why. So I just pretended I was busy, no matter how much I wanted to go on a date with him otherwise.

This time, though, I couldn’t get out of it. There was going to be a big festival at RAD the following month, one that I would need to dress up for as well, and I wouldn’t be allowed to just wear my school uniform like I usually did when we needed to look nice. I needed to buy some nice clothes, and Asmo had refused to let me just grab something and leave like I would if I had been allowed to go shopping alone. He needed new clothes, too, he pointed out, so even if he _was_ willing to let me dress in a way that was less than stunning (and he wouldn’t), I would still have been stuck watching him try on outfits when I was done. So, he had practically sung, why not let him find me something that would make all the other students jealous of my beauty?

“How do you feel about vests, MirMir?” Asmo asked, holding up dark grey one in one hand and a flashy green one in the other.

“They’re fine, I guess…” I replied, flipping through the dress shirts. I needed to find one that wasn’t white (too easy to see things through white, if the lighting was wrong), but also wouldn’t clash with whatever the Avatar of Lust decided he wanted to see me in. Wearing a vest wouldn’t be the worst option, though. Hopefully, it would cover the area where my binder was so I didn’t have to deal with choosing between wearing a loose shirt and looking like a frumpy mess or having to settle for an undershirt so I wouldn’t have edge lines in a tighter shirt. It was too bad it wasn’t a full-suit kind of event, or maybe I could convince Asmo to buy me a jacket, as fancy as his fashion-obsessed heart wanted to order it, and just hide my body completely under patterns and frills.

“Ooh! And what if I bought a matching one? Then no one would be able to deny that you’re _my_ date. Would you like that, sweetie?”

I gave him a shy smile. “Sounds great, Asmo.”

He giggled, then started piling shirts and vests into his arms. “I’ll be right back! I’m going to go try these on, to see which ones look best together. When I come back, we’ll start on yours, since I know you don’t like staring at yourself in the mirror as much as I do. Just wait for me out here while I look for an outfit as perfect as we are!” He gave me a wink, then went over toward the dressing room attendant to work how many items he could bring it at once.

Once he was out of earshot, I sighed, running my fingertips over the silky fabrics. Slowly, my eyes wandered to a dress a few racks over, and my body followed soon after. It was full of tulle and ribbons, and definitely not something I would look good in, even if I had the confidence to wear it. But still…I hadn’t worn a dress in a long time. When I was in the Human Realm, I avoided dresses except for special occasions because wearing pants was one of the few ways I could make myself feel less feminine without pissing off my dad. Once I came to the Devildom, a part of me was still afraid to wear a dress, because I felt like I had to “prove” myself, lest my new friends stop accepting me so strongly. Rationally, I knew they would still love me, no matter what I wore, and that nothing would _actually_ make them treat me any differently than they did now. It’s just…I spent so much time performing for others, trying to prove I’m queer enough, trans enough, gender non-conforming enough, to be seen as a valid nonbinary person, that it was a hard habit to break…

I flipped through the rack, pulling out beautiful party dresses and imagining what I would look like in them. I imagined going to parties with Asmo and Mammon, or waltzing around the ballroom at the Devil Lord’s Palace with Lucifer, or Satan, or even Lord Diavolo himself. I also imagined wearing poofy magical girl cosplay with Levi, and couldn’t stop myself from smiling. Leviathan would probably lose his mind if he ever saw me dressed up like Ruri-chan…

“Did you want to try on some dresses, too, while we’re here?”

I almost jumped out of my skin as Asmodeus wrapped his arms around my waist.

“N-no! I’m fine. I was just looking…” I said, extricating myself from his embrace to go back over to the shirts.

Asmodeus hummed thoughtfully. “You looked like you were doing a lot more than looking…” he pointed out, coming to stand beside me and place his hand over mine. “I’ve never seen you in a dress before, even just around the house. Did you want to get one?”

I shook my head, heart pounding. “We don’t have to. I have enough clothes already, and we’re here to get ready for the party.”

“You can wear a dress to the party if you want. I’m sure Luci and the prince would melt, seeing you come into the room in a pretty gown!”

“But…I thought you wanted us to matched?”

Asmodeus giggled, pulling me back into his arms and nuzzling against my hair. “Who said we wouldn’t be matching?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but then closed it. Of course Asmo had no objection to wearing dresses. I knew that. My first week at RAD, when I had worn borrowed pants from Asmo and Mammon while my own were being altered, Asmo had insisted I lend him my skirt as ‘collatoral’, then wore it to class for three days until Lucifer had been forced to give him a write-up for “unnecessarily lewd behavior.” But, no one questioned the fact he was a man. He could wear a skirt to class every day, and everyone would just accept that Asmo was just in the mood to wear a skirt. He didn’t have to prove who he was. He was beautiful, and confident, and he was plenty powerful enough to scare anyone who tried to say anything against him into silence with only a glance. He wasn’t…well…me…

I sighed and just nestled myself closer to his chest. I really needed the hug he was giving me, even if I wouldn’t have asked for it. “I can’t wear a dress….”

“Why not? Do you not like wearing dresses?”

“It’s not that. I liked dresses when I was younger. But…”

“But what?”

I paused. “I’m scared.”

Asmo ran his hands up and down my back. We stood in silence for a bit, he just giving me affection instead of pressing me. “Why are you scared…?” he finally asked, barely above a whisper.

“I don’t want people to think I’m a girl.” I replied at the same volume. “When I was little, when I thought I was a girl, I liked being pretty. But then…I got older, and my body changed and made me feel gross, and almost every dress I tried on just made the parts of my body that I hated more prominent. Even when I found something I felt comfortable in, people still said things about me that made me feel gross. And then I realized I was agender, and I just stopped wearing them altogether because I felt like wearing girl’s clothes made me a liar, and no one would believe that I was transgender if I didn’t look like I was. I just don’t want people to see me in a dress and decide the way I look is more important than the way I feel. I don’t want you, or your brothers, or Diavolo and Barbatos, or Solomon and the angels, to decide accepting me when I told you about my identity was a mistake… I just want to be _me_ , Ymir, instead of…of…I don’t want to have to be Marie again!”

Tears had begun to stream down my face. Asmo hushed me, one hand continuing to rub my back while the other held the back of my head. Asmo’s own eyes glistened as he pulled away to plant a soft kiss on my forehead.

“Ymir, honey… I didn’t realize you still felt that way…”

“That’s the way I wanted it to be. You all get so worked up when I’m upset about something. I feel bad enough when everyone decides to fix my problems, so I don’t want to see what happens when I have a problem that you can’t fix.”

“Sweetie… I know I can’t wave my hand and fix all your problems with your body and your gender and everything, but I want to at least help cheer you up when you’re sad. Please tell me when you’re upset, even if you don’t think I can make I better?”

“Okay…”

“Now, come one! We’re going home.”

Before I could react, Asmo took my hand and started leading me toward the door.

“Wait! Asmo! Where are we going?” I exclaimed. “We still need to buy our party clothes?”

“We’ll do that later. First, I want to make you feel pretty.”

He brought me back to the House of Lamentation and lead me to his bedroom. I had been in his room before, but the fact he was bringing me there to “make me feel pretty” made me suspicious…

“Asmo, what are you…?”

“Just sit on the bed while I get everything ready!” he sung. He gently pushed me back onto his mattress, then disappeared into his bathroom before I could ask what, exactly, he was planning.

I sighed and pulled my knees up and tucked them under my chin. I knew Asmodeus would not do anything to hurt or upset me, not intentionally, but he was making me nervous nonetheless. I honestly would have preferred clothing shopping to the blind anticipation I felt.

He came out moments later, a box filled with clinking containers in his hands. “Okay, sweetie! Let’s get started. Just lay back and relax, and let the Avatar of Lust help you love yourself as much as I love you.”

Although hesitantly, I complied. “And how are you going to do that, exactly?”

Asmo set the box down on his vanity, then came over to me to fluff his pillow around my head. “Just like I said. I’m going to make you feel as pretty as you look.”

“I’m not pretty, though?”

“Oh, honey. You need to stop lying to yourself. If I tell you you’re gorgeous, then it’s basically an irrefutable fact that you’re _gorgeous._ I’m just going to do my best to get your cute little head to realize what the rest of us already know.”

I frowned, then sighed. “Alright…”

“Now close your eyes. And stop frowning! You’re going to give yourself wrinkles.”

First, Asmo squeezed a facial treatment into his hands and rubbed it over my face, following it up by placing a face mask filled with cool beads over my eyes. While the creamy substance cured, I heard him settled onto the floor beside me and start rubbing lotion onto my hand. “What’s your favorite color again?”

I thought for a moment. “Purple.” I decided. “But how is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“Well…having a spa day and giving myself a make-over always makes me feel better when I’m upset. It reminds me how beautiful I am, and I thought it would help you feel beautiful, too. It sounded to me like you were having issues with how you viewed yourself, so I’m highlighting your natural beauty to help it shine through all those ugly thoughts you’ve been made to have about yourself before you came here.”

“Why couldn’t we just relax at a spa in town, though? Wouldn’t you have liked it better for us both to be pampered?”

“Because I wanted it to be obvious that this was about _you_ , and that I’m just your affectionate servant. I wanted to personally show you how much I adore every part of you, instead of letting a stranger do it all for me.” He brushed his lips over the back of my hand, then began to paint my nails. “Plus, I had some cosmetics I was planning to try out with you before the party, anyway. We’re killing two birds with one stone by cheering you up and trying them out at the same time.”

He finished with the hand he was working on, then walked around the bed – actually walked all the way around instead of just climbing over me like I was expecting him to – then repeated the treatment on the other hand. This one, too, he planted a little kiss on, then stood. “I’m going to look for some cute clothes to put you in, so you’ll be alone for a little. I’ll leave the door open, though, so feel free to shout for me if you need me for anything!” I could practically hear him winking at me as he said it.

Once I was alone, I began to tap my fingertips anxiously against the bedspread. I wanted to rip off the mask and follow him, to see what he was planning to put me in, but I knew he would kill me if I messed up my facemask _and_ my nail polish, so I forced myself to lie still. Although Asmo was slightly taller than me, I knew we were close enough in size that he could easily fit into my clothes when he wanted to, so it stood to reason that he could put me in his clothes as well. And therein lay the problem: I had no idea what all types of clothing Asmo owned. I wasn’t even sure _he_ knew every item of clothing he owned. Depending on what way his whims fell, I could end up in almost anything, and while I trusted Asmodeus to do what he _thought_ would help me, I wasn’t sure I trusted his knowledge of what would actually make me feel better, rather than just unintentionally make me feel worse.

An eternity later, Asmodeus returned to my side, humming happily and flopping a pile of clothes down by the baseboard. “Do you trust me enough to let me change your clothes for you?” he asked, laying a gentle hand on my calf.

I hesitated for a moment. That was a loaded question. Did I trust him to behave himself while taking off what I was currently wearing and putting me into a new outfit? Sure. He may be a flirt and kind of a pervert sometimes, but he wasn’t an asshole. I was reasonably sure that he could keep his hands to himself in the name of friendship and fashion. Did I trust him to not put me in something pink and frilly and/or lacy, like the stuff he wears when he goes out clubbing? Might I remind you of my prior inner dialogue?

“Go ahead, Asmo. Just don’t get any funny ideas while you have me defenseless.”

“Oh, honey. I’m not going to touch you without your permission.” He paused, then giggled. “Unless you think having a little fun would cheer you up…?”

I didn’t reply out loud, but I frowned and did my best to exude the opposite of arousal, whatever that might be. He just giggled again and gave one of my hands a careful squeeze to keep from smearing my nails, then carefully helped me out of my pants and socks and into what I assumed was a loose skirt and some thick stockings. His fingertips lingered a bit long against my mid-thigh on the second sock, but he stopped soon enough that I didn’t feel like it was worth pointing out. In the time it took to even process that he had lingered, he had already moved to sit by my head and run a hand over my hair.

“I’m going to take off the cooling mask and replace it with a sleep mask,” he explains. “Just keep your eyes closed, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because I want your outfit to be a surprise! You can look at it when your make-over is done.”

“Fine.”

After I am blindfolded again, he sits me up and take off my t-shirt. There is a pause when he turns to pick up the shirt he had picked out for me, but that’s enough to make me feel self-conscious. I cross my arms over my chest, desperate to be covered again.

“I’m not looking at anything except your face.” Asmo assures me. “Before I put your shirt on, do you want to…adjust? Or would you prefer I put your shirt on as soon as possible?”

“Just put my shirt on, please.”

“Of course.”

I allowed him to put my arms through the sleeves, but I pressed my arms against my body again as soon as he was finished with them. Even though Asmo knows I wear a binder, having him see me topless except for it made me feel even more vulnerable than having him take off my pants had. I wish I could have dressed myself, but Asmo insisted on being mysterious…

Instead of continuing the makeover, Asmodeus took a break to hug me to his chest, running his hand over my head in a way that I could tell was meant to feel more comforting than flirtatious. “I’m sorry that changing your clothes seemed to make you feel uncomfortable,” he cooed to me. “I assumed you would be okay, since I was only changing your outer clothes, but I saw the way you reacted to it, and I feel bad for making you feel that way.”

“It’s fine…” I murmured, although it kind of wasn’t. I wasn’t upset at Asmo, since I _had_ given him permission to change my clothes for me, but this wasn’t something that an apology would sweep under the rug either. I just hoped whatever he had chosen to have me wear would actually cheer me up, since I didn’t want him to end up feeling guilty because my brain insisted on torturing me.

“The clothing change is over now, and I’ll obviously let you change out of the clothes yourself. From now on, though, if I pick out an outfit for you, I’ll remember I should let you change yourself. Alright, sweetie?”

“Yeah…”

He didn’t take long on my hair, just running a comb through it and spritzing it with product, styling it with his fingers and then clipping something into it as a finishing touch. I kept my hair short, so there probably wasn’t much he _could_ do with it, to me fair. I had seen him do some pretty amazing things to change up his own hair style, though, so I figured he could probably make mine unrecognizable, too, if he really wanted to. He was trying to make me love myself more, though, I reminded myself. He was probably intentionally trying to keep me looking like myself, just a slightly better looking version of myself.

He had saved my face for last. He peeled away the mask from earlier and treated my skin with some kind of cream or lotion. I don’t know. I had picked up some lingo from the internet, but I couldn’t for the life of me tell you what most of it actually was, and he was finished with it before I had the chance to ask. I then felt him brush make-up across my cheek, only lightly, but I still wrinkled my nose, earning me a slight bop across the bridge with the handle.

"Asmo...I don't like makeup." I told him. "It makes my skin feel like it's covered in a weird film. And no matter how many videos I watched on how to look more masculine, I always looked even more like a girl, if I didn't just make myself look like an ugly porcelain doll..."

"Well, you didn't have someone like me doing your makeup for you before, did you?"

"Asmo!"

"Sh... I won't put too much on you. Just enough to emphasize your features. And if you still don't like it, then I'll help you wash it off. Deal?"

"Deal..."

He continued running brushes over my skin, then ran something over my lips, and finally gave brief attention to my eyebrows before grasping the edge of my mask. "All I have left to do is your eyes. I'm going to take off the mask, but I don't want you to look anywhere but my face, alright? No peeking at your outfit until I'm done with you!"

"Whatever you say, Asmodeus." I agreed. I had humored him this long, so I might as well do this one last thing.

He lifted off the blindfold, then took hold of my chin and began to prod my eyelids and lashes with more cosmetics. Meanwhile, after my eyes had adjusted to being used again, I found that I couldn't look away from him if I wanted to. From this close, his eyes were even more beautiful than I realized. Even with his serious, focused expression, his amber eyes shone, and the lashes that framed them were the longest I had ever seen. I couldn't even say for sure if they were real or not, as I could not see any mascara clumps or eyelash glue, yet they still looked too perfect to be natural. The only makeup I could distinguish was a bit of eyeliner, but that was it. He was living perfection.

My eyes drifted down to his lips. Rather than trying to guess what kind of cosmetics he was wearing on them, though (and honestly, it was probably just some tinted gloss, if I had to guess), I just appreciated how plump they were. His bottom lip jutted out slightly, like a permanent pout, and I caught the tip of his tongue poke out slightly as he concentrated on his task. They looked the way most people imagined an actress’s lips to look. I had never thought about it much, since I knew Asmo was a man, but he probably had more classically feminine features than I did when it came to his face. He never tried to hide them, though, or felt ashamed of being a “girly” guy. He embraced his beauty, and he looked unmistakably amazing. For the first time that day, a part of me actually started to believe Asmo would be successful, instead of continually assuming he would fall into the same shortcomings I always encountered when I tried to wear a more “pretty” look than usual.

“Eyes up!” he reminded me, breaking me from my thoughts.

“Right, sorry! I was just looking at your lips…”

“Oh, really? Thinking about how much you want to kiss them?”

I stayed silent. That was not a thought I was unfamiliar with, if I was being honest. But I wasn’t ready for that level of honesty with him just yet.

It only took another minute or so for Asmo to finish. He placed the mascara wand to the side, then gave me a wide grin and took both of my hands in his. “Close your eyes, and I’ll lead you over to the mirror,” he told me. I nodded and gave him a small smile before doing as he told me.

He led me carefully across the room to his full-length mirror, then placed his hands gently on my hips, positioning himself behind me in preparation for the big reveal. “Okay! You can look now!”

I opened my eyes and gasped. Instead of myself, the person I see in the mirror looks like some kind of ethereal space fairy. He put me in a long black skirt with a sparkly and sheer overlay that was longer in the back than the front and was so light and airy that it seems to be in constant motion, no matter how long I stood still. He paired it with a dark purple shirt with cap sleeves that hung loose down my torso, completely hiding my figure save for the slightest peek of my tummy. My stockings were just plain white knee-socks, and my hair was fairly plain as well save for a rhinestone hairclip and some kind of spray that made my hair sparkle when it caught the light, but the plainness just helps to emphasize how beautiful the main part of the outfit was. Just from that much, I already wanted to tell Asmo that it was perfect. It wass loose, like what I like to wear around the house, but unlike my sweatshirt and giant t-shirts, it wasn’t bulky or frumpy. It was comfy and beautiful, and allowed me to have all the things I liked about feminine clothing without all of the things that raised my dysphoria. I wanted to cry, but I held it back, as I wanted a closer look at how he did my make-up. I couldn’t see any of the stuff I could feel him putting on my skin, yet I somehow looked like a completely different person.

I stepped closer to the mirror to examine my face in more detail. He contoured my cheeks to look sharp and my eyebrows thick but tamed. Rather than make my lips pop like he often does to his own, he had chosen a subdued pinky-nude color, and when I brushed my fingers over it, barely any came off, it had been put on so lightly. I almost wanted to check his fingers, as I was wracking my brain to remember if he had actually used a stick or if he might have just rubbed it on by hand. On the other hand, my eyes were definitely _not_ subtle, as they were the feature that was my best facial feature. Even if I wasn’t fond of my face in general, I love my wide green eyes, so Asmo had made sure to make them stand out by running mascara through the lashes and lining them with a deep, almost black purple eyeliner, to tie the make-up to my outfit. That was where he stopped with color, though, opting to just contour my crease with a light brown and a hint of shimmer instead of coloring my eyelids entirely. Even when he was laying on the product, he still did his best to keep it light. My chest warmed, realizing how much care he put into figuring out exactly how to cater my makeup to me instead of just doing to me the same things he did to himself before going out.

“Thank you so much, Asmo! I love it!” I exclaimed, running into his arms to give him a hug. My expectations had been low, but the results would have impressed me even if I had been thinking more realistically about my glamourous friend’s skills. “It’s…it’s just perfect. I don’t know how you did it, but…you _really_ did it. Thank you.”

“Of course, honey,” he murmured, kissing my forehead. “Do you see how beautiful you are now?”

“Yeah… I’m still so shocked, though. It’s usually so hard to find ‘pretty’ outfits that I’m comfortable in, but you did it in no time at all.”

“That’s because I’m an expert of beauty!” he laughed, rubbing his cheek against my hair. “Now. What do you say we go out for a dinner date tonight and show the whole Devildom how pretty you are, and we can discuss our party outfits while we eat. Sound good?”

“Sounds great!”

  
\---  


The day of the party arrived, and everyone was already gathered in the front foyer except for Asmodeus and me. We were ready – we had been ready for a while – but Asmo insisted I make a grand reveal to his brothers.

“How much longer?” I asked nervously, leaning against the wall of the upstairs hallway. “I don’t want Lucifer to get pissed at us…”

“Relax. No matter how angry he gets, there’s no way he’ll remember to scold us after he sees you.”

“I hope you’re right…”

Asmo checked the time on his DDD, then grinned and started to descend the stairs. It was 10 minutes before we were set to leave, the closest we had been willing to cut it so that the eldest would not come and murder us before we could put our plan into action.

“Asmodeus. Where is Ymir?” I heard Lucifer ask. My legs began to shake, but I took a deep breath to try to calm myself. Only a few more seconds…

“Ya better not have done anything weird to them!” Mammon threatened. “If ya don’t tell us where they are soon, I’m going to…”

Asmo ignored his older brothers, clearing his throat and announcing to everyone gathered in the hall below, “I now present to you, the most beautiful human in the whole Devildom!”

I stepped out from behind the corner and began walking downstairs towards them. When I passed, Asmo took my hand, and we walked together. Save for the fact his was pink while mine was green, our outfits matched perfectly. We wore knee-length layered cocktail dresses with ribbon waistbands and three-quarter sleeves, and headbands with cloth flowers to one side. The only other difference was that I had refused to wear heels like his, opting instead for a pair of flats decorated with a cute glass gem, so he towered almost half a foot taller than me, rather than his usual couple of inches.

The other brothers stared at me speechlessly.

“Um…Hi. I hope you like the outfit Asmo picked out for me for the party…” I said, trying to bring them back to reality.

The first to break from his trance was Satan. He cleared his throat, then offered me a gentlemanly hand. “You look lovely, Ymir. I hadn’t thought you liked dresses, but I feel honored to have been allowed to see you in one.”

I took his hand, and he pulled me toward him to kiss my cheek. “I don’t mind dresses, but I was a little nervous to wear them in public.” I explained, feeling my cheeks warm from the attention. “But Asmodeus offered to help me feel beautiful and confident enough to wear what I want, regardless of what other people think of me for it.”

"Ya mean, because ya might get called a girl?" Mammon asked, voicing what his brothers likely realized but knew not to ask. He received quite a few silent glares in response.

My face warmed. "Yeah... But Asmo helped me realize that 'looking like a girl' didn't mean I had to let it make me feel like a girl, or give people an excuse to invalidate my identity because their first assumptions may have turned out to be wrong. I'm still the same me, whether I'm in a dress or in pants, so I should wear whatever makes me feel comfortable and happy, and screw what other people say…”

Lucifer cleared his throat. “Well. While I must agree that you are lovely in whatever you choose to wear, we really must be going soon, so that we are not late.”

Asmo linked his arm through mine. “What do you say, my beautiful date. Shall we go?”

I giggled, but before I could respond to him, a number of his brothers either yelled at him for clinging to me so much or expressed displeasure that I was Asmodeus’s date instead of theirs.

“Sorry, boys, but Asmo asked if I would be his official date for the party a long time ago.” I told them as we all began to file out the door. “I’m sure if you ask nicely, though, he’d be happy to share. He’d probably be happy to know you all love my new look and confidence as much as I do.”


End file.
